Who Is Left That Writes These Days?
by whatarushh
Summary: Castle does some summertime writing outside of Naked Heat.
1. Part 1

A/N: inspiration (of sorts) struck me way back in February, when i was looking for a birthday card to send to my dad. i COULD NOT figure out a way to make it work in a story, until the finale aired and we learned that Beckett and Castle would be apart for the summer. so yay for that at least, lol.

disclaimer: yes, another post-finale fic. no, i don't own Castle. borrowed a line from What I Like About You, and the title is a line from the song "The Letter" by PJ Harvey.

* * *

Kate Beckett sighed heavily as she stepped inside "her" apartment. That's how she'd come to think of it – as "hers." Because even after months of living there, she didn't really consider it to be her own. _Her_ apartment had been blown up. This one was just a temporary place of residence, not a home. A home has that lived-in feel. A home holds all the stuff that's important to you, not just the stuff that survived an explosion. And inside a home is a person or two that care about you, if you're lucky. And, of course, this train of thought always led her back to _him_, which never made matters any better.

It had been almost a month since he'd left for the Hamptons. One long, not fun, painful, tear-your-hair-out-of-your-head kind of month. The lack of his entertaining antics aside, Kate also had to deal with what she begrudgingly allowed herself to call heartbreak. It made her furious to think of it like that; they hadn't even been a couple, and Kate Beckett does NOT fall in love before being in a relationship. But after living for a week with the ever-present dull ache in the pit of her stomach, she'd finally accepted defeat and had a good cry, her second in as many weeks. The man was turning her into a damned human Niagra Falls, and she wasn't sure who she was madder at: him, or herself.

Three weeks later, most of the anger had dissolved, and she got around to just plain old missing him. And it sucked.

To make matters worse, it was almost as if he'd fallen off the face of the planet. Her phone remained devoid of any calls or texts from him, and she'd even stooped low enough to checking his Twitter. One tweet, posted in late May, was all about how Gina was "cracking the whip" – that skank. She had furtively hoped that the whip he was talking about wasn't literal (or sexual), though lord only knows what those two were doing out there. Seeing evidence that it was hard for him to leave the city, however, lifted her spirits significantly, as did his wish that he could rewrite parts of his life. It's not that she was glad he was at least mildly unhappy, she just wanted him to be happier with her than without. Assuming that's even what he was talking about, of course.

Dragging herself back to the present, Kate tossed her keys and bag onto the table, and sat down to go through her mail. There was nothing particularly surprising in the pile, just a couple of bills. Until…

She sat up straight. The last letter in the pile was postmarked from the Hamptons.

She took a deep breath to try and still her suddenly thundering heart. _It's nothing_, she told herself, all the while picking nervously at a corner. _The envelope is too small for it to hold anything important._

Slowly and deliberately, she turned the envelope over in her hands. She ran her thumbnail underneath the flap to break the seal, and gingerly pulled out the card.

Damnit, were her hands shaking?

She took another deep breath before looking at what she held in her hands. It was a multicolored striped greeting card. In the center was a picture of a young, pigtailed, brightly-smiling girl next to a printed caption.

"_Pigtails are just about as much fun as hair can have. It's like a party for your head!"_

Kate grinned, and opened the card. Printed inside was, _"Happy Birthday. Wear the pigtails."_

Underneath, in Richard Castle's neat scrawl, was a handwritten message.

"_Okay, so it's not your birthday. But it made me think of you."_

Kate didn't even care that she couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Richard! Where are you?"

Rick rolled his eyes. "I'm in the kitchen, Gina," he called back. "Ya know, even writers have to eat sometime."

He heard the click of her heels on the tile of the entryway. "I have to go out, I have a meeting. Is it safe to leave you here alone?"

"If by that you mean to ask if I'm going to get any writing done, than yes, it's safe."

She poked her head into the kitchen and peered at him over her sunglasses. "If there's not a new chapter by the time I get back—"

"Gina. Leave."

She glared at him, but retreated from the room. He let out a long breath when he heard the front door open and shut behind her. And so had gone their previous month together. If he hadn't been sure the divorce was a good idea before this summer, he most certainly was now. The woman was _impossible._

Meandering over to the fridge, Rick glanced at the neglected pile of mail sitting on the counter. He hesitated, and thought back to a week earlier, when he'd decided to send Kate a card. He'd stumbled across it when he was at the local drugstore and spent several hours thinking of a reason to send it to her. He'd finally decided that it could be for no reason other than that it was too perfect not to send.

And maybe because he missed her. But just a little bit.

He often wondered how she and Demming were doing. There had been countless times where he'd wanted to call, or text at the very least, but didn't want to get her in trouble; Rick had been on the overprotective boyfriend side of things before, and he knew that no man in his right mind would want Kate Beckett texting anyone but himself. So he'd held off, for her own good. This card, he'd decided, was perfectly safe – an inside joke, so it was very much appropriate, but at the same time should give her an inkling that she was on his mind. And, just in case it didn't, he'd written it.

Now, he'd reached the uncomfortable stage of knowing that the card should've arrived by now, and that he could be receiving a reply at any time, if he was going to be getting one at all. He told himself not to get his hopes up, but that hadn't stopped the little flicker of 'maybe today's the day' he felt when he woke up each morning.

Abandoning his journey to the fridge, he headed instead to the mail pile. No harm in checking, right?

Yet again, he was sorely disappointed by the lack of Kate. Making a face, he turned the latest issue of Cosmo (Gina's contribution to the household) sideways and shook it to make sure nothing was stuck inside.

An envelope addressed to him, in the handwriting he knew so well, slid out and landed face up on the counter.

Like a kid on Christmas morning, he grinned and dove at it, ripping the envelope open as quickly as possible, all too eager to see what it held. He found himself looking at a black card with a gray prison cell on it.

"_Being known as the 'fun one' of the group is a good thing. Unless you're in prison."_

He laughed happily, and opened the card, where it continued, "_Happy Birthday. Avoid prison."_

His smile only grew wider as he read what she'd written underneath. "_Funny, 'cause this one made me think of you."_

Suddenly, a brilliant idea came to his mind, an idea that made his stomach flip at the mere prospect. He quickly pulled the nearest pad and pen towards himself, and wrote a short message.

"_Will you be my pen pal?"_

Underneath, he drew three boxes; one next to "yes," the second next to "no," and the third next to "I'm rolling my eyes at you."

After a moment's hesitation, he added another sentence at the bottom: _"Check one (or two, 'cause I know you want to)."_

_::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
_

Kate chewed on her lip as she looked at the piece of paper on the table in front of her. When she read Rick's message, she'd immediately rolled her eyes… and then quickly checked "yes." Grinning at how well he knew her, she checked box number three as well. But now that she'd had a few moments to think about it, she'd become a little unsure. Not about her choice to accept, but about what she was going to say.

Seriously, what the hell was she going to say? 'I broke up with Tom for you, and then you left to spend the summer with your ex wife' sounded, to Kate, a little too direct. 'I miss you'? A little too clingy. And 'hope things are going well with Gina' was just a big fat NO.

Finally making up her mind, she scribbled her return message in the margins of the paper he'd written on.

"_I haven't had a pen pal since the fifth grade, so I'm a little rusty. Does the man who writes for a living mind kicking things off?"_

_::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
_

"_Dear Kate,"_ Rick wrote. He paused, wondering if that was an acceptable greeting, but shrugged it off. There's no way he'd be calling her Beckett all summer.

"_Ooooh, you had a pen pal in fifth grade? Do tell!_

_To be honest, I haven't had a pen pal in eons either. Not since Reagan was in the White House, I believe. And even if I had, I'm not even really sure that experience would set a good precedence for this one. I mean, we already know each other (and pretty well, I might add), so there's no need for that awkward 'what's your favorite color?' stuff. (But, in case you were wondering, it's purple. Don't judge me.)_

_So now that we've got that out of the way, how's your summer going? Have I missed any interesting cases? I almost forgot how dull my life is when I don't spend it with __real__ criminals – they make the imaginary ones that much less exciting. But, since Gina's cut off the internet, I have nothing to do but think up ways to make them interesting._

_Yes, you read that right; Gina cut off the internet. I'm basically under house arrest, and seriously considering throwing myself through a window to escape. If I suddenly show up at your door looking like I've just walked the entirety of Long Island, you'll know why._

_Sorry, I didn't mean to word vomit my complaints all over you. Please, do me one better, or I'll feel really bad. Wait, no, if you do me one better, that means you're unhappy, and I don't want that either. So just tell me something. Anything._

_Waiting by the mailbox,_

_Rick"_

_::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
_

"_Dear Rick,"_

Kate paused, wondering why that greeting flowed so easily from her pen. She'd called him Rick in person maybe twice, always in jest, and it seemed very odd that she'd have no problem documenting it now. She shrugged, and went on.

"_Don't apologize for word vomiting. It's basically what a pen pal's for. So for future reference, feel free to complain to your heart's content, because trust me, I fully intend to make my letters worth the insanely high cost of a stamp. Gotta love living on a cop's salary, yes?_

_And please, purple is the color of royalty. With a name like Castle, isn't the royal color very fitting?"_

Kate filled the next page and a half with surprising ease. She hadn't wanted to talk about work, but hey, he'd asked…and she couldn't deny that she wanted his input. Not even for help solving the case (with any luck, it'd be solved before she'd get his response), but just for his wisecracks. And to see how his mind worked – she couldn't help but be interested in his thought process.

What she studiously avoided mentioning, however, was the fact that she was no longer with Tom. Her spirits had been lifted immensely by his mentioning how unhappy he was with Gina, but until he specifically said that there was nothing going on, her own relationship status was going to remain confidential. Childish? Yeah, maybe. But she'd be lying if she said the sting of his leaving wasn't still slightly present.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

By the time the dog days of summer had the island in a chokehold, checking the mail had become Rick's favorite time of day. He and Kate had been writing regularly, sending and receiving at least one letter per week. Oddly enough, even though they'd been apart since the end of May, Rick felt closer to her than they'd ever been before. As much time as they'd spent together, most of it had been in the professional capacity. But now he was getting all sorts of glimpses into her personal life that he hadn't gotten before, and he was loving every single one.

In one letter he received in mid-July, a paragraph ended abruptly in the middle of a sentence. On the next line, a new paragraph was started, in a different color pen. "_Damn_," she'd written, _"I got called to a crime scene and totally forgot what I was trying to say earlier."_ Rick was smiling about that for hours after he'd read it.

There were letters with little splotches of coffee or a sauce on them, which had him imagining her writing as she sat at her kitchen table and ate dinner. There were letters that were a little crinkled at the corners, which made him wonder if fiddling with the paper was a manifestation of nerves as she was thinking about saying something personal.

But then there were the letters that _did_ say something personal. _"It would've been my mom's 54__th__ birthday today," _she wrote in early August. _"I've finally gotten to the point where I can sleep soundly the night before, but there's still a dark cloud hanging over the day, without fail._" The thought of her so upset gave him a strong urge to drop everything and drive (screw that, _fly_) back to Manhattan to give her a hug. But the realization that he'd have to go through Gina to get the car quickly deflated that impulse.

Of course, he enjoyed hearing about the cases she was working as well. He knew that she'd most likely receive his input too late to actually consider it, but he found it immensely refreshing to spin a story not related to his book for a change, and to someone who would take him seriously. If his theories did end up helping, than all the better!

But what jumped out at him most is that not once had she mentioned Demming. There were a number of times where he'd been on the verge of asking how they were doing, but had restrained himself. He'd consoled himself by repeating the mantra '_no news is good news_.'

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Kate couldn't believe how fast the summer had gone. Having something to look forward to every time she checked the mail really helped time fly, and she was able to escape the tedium of her daily life for several hours a week. It certainly didn't hurt that the man she was writing to was completely butterfly-inducing.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but Rick's letters brought with them the sights and smells of the beach. The salty breeze, the warm sun, sand underfoot, scores of beautiful beachgoers… alright, the thought of Rick surrounded by bikini-clad women made her slightly nauseous. But if he was spending time writing his book and writing to her, he couldn't have _too_ much time for beach skanks or a certain blonde wearing head-to-toe pink, could he?

If he'd been spending any time at the beach, he certainly wasn't letting on. When he spoke of what was going on in his life, he wrote only of his book. She was glad he was getting a good amount of work done, and loved when he worked through plot points in his letters. By this time, she'd figured out a decent portion of the case Nikki Heat would be working on, and let Rick know. "_Hm, now you've become a liability,"_ he wrote in response. _"You'd better burn my letters! Or else keep them under lock and key, but I'm not nearly optimistic enough to hope for that."_

Reading that brought a blush to her cheeks. In fact, she _had_ been keeping them all.

Kate couldn't remember the last time she felt she'd gotten to know someone so well. She found that writing letters added a whole new depth to their relationship, and loved the insight she was getting into what really made Rick Castle tick.

Every now and then he'd mention his mother and the work she was doing on her new play. _"After a bad couple of years, I'm really happy that she's getting her life together,"_ he'd written._ "It's still weird at home without her, but Chet seems to be a decent guy. And, at the risk of sounding like a complete sap, I'm proud of how she's gotten her career back on track. Does this make me a total mama's boy?"_

Kate had giggled, and responded, "_Maybe a little. But I don't mind._"

He also dwelt a lot on Alexis. _"I talked to Alexis on the phone today,"_ read one of his earlier letters._ "She's absolutely loving Princeton. I think I could handle it if she decides to go there for college. After all, New Jersey is much closer than England. You knew she's been considering Oxford, right? Maybe that was her plan from the get-go! See, now every school in the country sounds good compared to letting her go overseas. Wow, I might have a truly diabolical daughter on my hands. I don't know if I've ever been so proud."_

The fact that she was never entirely shocked about what he wrote about made her pleasantly content – they already knew each other so well. Of course, there were little things she learned about him in each letter, like how winter is his favorite season, and that he secretly watched stupid Vh1 reality shows when he couldn't sleep.

But the one thing that really made her pause came in a letter in early September.

"_Naked Heat is finally done, and off to the editors. Could the 12__th__ precinct stand to gain a consultant back?"_

_::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
_

Lanie Parish hummed slightly as she worked on her latest body, holding a scalpel delicately in her right hand. It was early morning, and most other medical examiners were still not in yet, leaving her to work in peace and quiet.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the doors to the morgue burst open and Kate Beckett strode in.

"He's coming back today," she said by way of greeting.

Lanie put a hand over her pounding heart. "Christ, girl, you sure know how to give someone a heart attack. I almost decapitated Mr. Lester here."

"Sorry," Kate said, looking slightly guilty. "But this is an emergency."

"Well, this corpse isn't yours, so I imagine it's an emergency of the personal sort?"

Kate nodded fervently.

"Alright, now that I can hear over the pounding of blood in my veins, what's the emergency?"

"Castle."

"What about him?"

"He's coming back today. That's why I'm here so early, I needed to talk to you before he gets here because I don't know what to do."

Lanie looked at her clearly anxious friend and sighed. "Based on the look on your face, your feelings about him haven't changed?"

Kate bit her lip, and shook her head minutely. "Not… not in the way I hoped," she said in a strangled voice.

Lanie's scalpel clattered onto the table. "What do you mean not in the way you hoped?"

"Um," Kate said awkwardly, "We've sort of been… writing to each other."

"_Writing_ to each other?" Lanie asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Like… pen pals."

"You've been pen pals…"

"Yes."

"With Richard Castle…"

"Yeah."

"For the entire summer?"

"Uh huh," Kate answered nervously.

"Not even touching the fact that you've been keeping me in the dark about this – which you're forgiven for, by the way," she added, looking at Kate pointedly, "let me just make sure I'm hearing this correctly: you're more into him now than you were when he left?"

Kate bit her lip again, and looked as if she had to force the words out. "I think so. A little bit. Maybe. Yeah."

"Even though he left?"

Kate sighed and shrugged sadly. "He thought I was with Tom. Honestly, in hindsight, I can't blame him."

"Is he with his ex?"

"He never really said, but he wrote about what a bitch she is on multiple occasions."

"Okay, let's take that as a 'no.' Does he know you're not with Tom?"

An awkward silence filled the morgue.

Lanie groaned. "Really? You didn't tell him?"

Kate scratched her head awkwardly and looked up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact. "No…"

Lanie wanted to smack herself in the face. "You're impossible."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"So let me get this straight; you're single. He's single, or else very unhappy with what's-her-face—"

"Gina," Kate supplied bitterly.

"Okay, Gina," Lanie amended, "But as I was saying, you're single. He's single, or as good as. You're basically in love with the man. And you've been writing to each other for months, which implies there are feelings on his end too."

"Sounds about right."

"And now you're here, _on the day he's coming back_, asking _me_ what you should do?"

"Yeah?" Kate answered shiftily.

Lanie smacked her arm.

"Hey!" Kate cried.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Lanie exclaimed, smacking her once again.

"Lanie! What are you doing?"

"Finding out what the _hell_ is wrong with you!"

"Wha—?"

Lanie held up a hand to cut her off, and pointed to the door with her other hand. "Go. Back to the precinct. Right now. You are going to tell Castle how you feel, maybe make out with him a little bit, and put both of you, and everyone else, out of our misery."

"But Lanie—"

"Go!"

"But what if he _is_ with Gina?"

Lanie sighed, but couldn't keep a smile from seeping onto her face. "Honey, if he was with another woman, he would _not_ have spent his summer writing to _you_."

Kate hesitated, but finally grinned and pulled her into a quick hug. "Thank you."

"You're wasting time!" Lanie said, batting her away and shoving her in the direction of the door.

"Okay, I'm going!" Kate laughed, turning her stumble into a jog. "Wish me luck!"

"You don't need it!" Lanie called as the doors swung shut. She looked heavenward. "Just please end the madness."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Kate's heart was beating furiously as the elevator doors opened and she stepped out into the bullpen. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the back of a very familiar head sitting in the chair next to her desk. She couldn't help but smile, and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Her excitement to see him again began to overpower her nerves as she approached her desk, and she couldn't help but feel herself falling right back into their old ways of playful joking.

"Anyone else have this weird sense of déjà vu?" she asked no one in particular, stopping next to his chair.

She grinned as he leapt to his feet and turned to face her, looking equally as happy as she felt.

"Hi," he said breathlessly.

"Hi," she answered softly.

They didn't say anything for a few seconds, just stood there looking at each other happily. Finally, Rick cleared his throat nervously. "I'd hug you hello, but I wouldn't want to get you in trouble."

Kate's brow furrowed. "In trouble?"

"Yeah. Ya know, with Tom," he clarified.

_Oh._ She shot him a small smile. "That's not an issue anymore."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Do I need to beat him up?"

She chuckled, and shook her head. "No."

"What happened? I mean," he added hurriedly, "I don't want to pry, but you seemed to really like him…"

She shrugged, and repeated the words she'd said to Tom. "He just isn't what I'm looking for," she said, meeting Rick's eyes and praying that he'd get the message.

"Oh," he said softly. After pausing for a beat, he smiled and opened his arms. "In that case…?"

She smiled and stepped into his embrace, sliding her arms around his neck as his wrapped around her waist.

His smell had been almost literally burned into her memory from the night her apartment had been blown up, when she was wrapped in his jacket and his arms as he helped her to safety, but she drank it in anyway. She sighed into his shoulder, reveling in his solidity and the way he held her like he never wanted to let her go. Allowing her eyes to slip closed, she thought hazily about how a hug this long may not be socially appropriate. That notion was quickly chased out of her mind by an entirely more pleasant one; _I could definitely get used to this._

"Did you burn my letters like I told you to?" Rick whispered conspiratorially into her hair.

"No," she murmured, smiling. "Kept them all."

She felt him smile. "Even better."

She pulled back and met his eyes again, and was suddenly hit by a wave of butterflies in her stomach. It was one of those things that, if she told Lanie, her friend wouldn't understand the magnitude of what was happening. It had always been that, with Rick, what was said was often less important than what was not said. He had a way of looking at her that made her go weak in the knees, and the way he was looking at her now… well, suffice it to say that Kate knew something in their relationship had shifted.

She swallowed hard and willed her heartbeat down to a normal rate. "So. You ready to help me catch murderers again?"

"That all depends."

"On?"

"On whether or not you let me make you dinner tonight."

She smiled. "I think we can make that happen."

"Good," he said, eyes twinkling. "Than yes."

She reluctantly stepped out of his arms (she _was_ here to work, after all). He slid his hand down her arm as he released her, catching her hand and squeezing it briefly before letting go. Her heartbeat, once again, rocketed skyward. Turning back to her desk, she spotted her mug next to her keyboard, filled with still steaming coffee. Oh, how she'd missed that.

"Is everything okay?" Rick asked, noticing that she'd suddenly gone very still.

"Um, yeah," she answered, making up her mind very quickly, her back still to him. "Just forgot something."

"Hm?"

Before she could convince herself otherwise, that it was a bad idea, that people were watching, that she was acting too rashly, she turned back around to face him and kissed him quickly on the lips.

She held in a giggle at the gobsmacked look on his face.

"What was that for?" he asked, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

She shrugged. "You brought me coffee," she said, shooting him a lingering look as she turned back to her desk. Shuffling through case files, she grinned as she heard him let out a breath.

"I'm suddenly much more excited to make you dinner," he mused.

"Assuming that your effort and my reaction have a direct relationship, are we? You know what happens when you assume."

"Yeah yeah, I make an ass out of you and me. Well, just me, actually."

"Hm," Kate mused slyly. "Well, lucky for you, I like yours."

Feeling very lucky he couldn't see her face, she grinned at his silence.

"Did you — just — say…" Rick stuttered, "that you like my ass?"

"Yes, I believe I did," she said, turning to face him and patting his shoulder. "Do try and keep up, will you?"

"What is this alternate universe?" he said in a hushed voice, "And where has it been all my life?"

She smiled. "Hiding in a package of filler paper and the most perfect card ever."

His eyes lit up. "Why, Detective Beckett, did my letters woo you?"

She raised an eyebrow.

He sighed happily. "Welcome back to me!"

FIN.

* * *

A/N: most fitting greeting cards ever, yes? haha. i'm not sure what i was expecting when i started writing this, but this final product was certainly not it! i like it well enough, though, and hope you do too! :]


	2. Part 2

A/N: look at me, not posting at 2 in the morning! lol :P. i definitely wasn't planning to continue this (as evidenced by the "FIN." at the bottom of part 1), but enough of you asked to see Castle & Beckett's dinner that it got me thinking. and you know how me & thinking works out... ;). it was reeeally slow going (damn you, defective muse!), but here we are! i unintentionally wrote this in the universe of Move You and my one-shot for the finale.

this is for all of you that asked for it!

disclaimer: i own Castle. i also own the Statue of Liberty, the Great Wall of China, and the moon.

* * *

"Ya know, when you asked me if I'm ready to catch murderers with you again, I wasn't expecting so much…"

"Paperwork?"

"Yeah."

Kate chuckled, and tossed her now dead pen into the trashcan below her desk. Indeed, it had been a very slow day. Hours of paperwork, dismantling the murder board, and ignoring the paper footballs that Ryan and Esposito were mindlessly flicking at the back of her head out of sheer boredom. Yep, aside from Rick Castle's return (and the fact that she had subsequently kissed him, of course), nothing remotely interesting had happened.

"Well, I'm sorry there aren't enough murders to keep you occupied," she said sardonically, fishing around the pencil cup on her desk for a new pen. Not finding one, she sighed and held out her hand.

Rick sighed dramatically, and stopped trying to balance the pen on his upper lip as a moustache. He grudgingly handed her his latest source of entertainment, and she uncapped it and resumed her work.

"Yeah, Castle," Esposito piped up from his desk. "Bummer nobody else has died today."

Ryan looked up from his work with a grin. "It's a shame, really."

Kate rolled her eyes in amusement. The boys had met Rick's return with an excessive amount of back-slapping, high fives, and 'feed the birds,' and had since been ribbing him incessantly. It was annoying in the best possible way. In times like these she felt obnoxiously female, but found she couldn't be happier to have her team whole and back to normal. Finally deciding to abandon her paperwork for a moment, she went to work folding a paper football.

Rick huffed indignantly. "Hey, _all summer_ I looked forward to coming back here, and you mean to tell me that there are _zero_ killers in business today?"

"That's the breaks, Castle," Kate said, still concentrating on her folding.

"And besides," Esposito said, a knowing smirk on his face, "I'm sure murder isn't the real reason you looked forward to coming back here, now, was it?"

Making her last fold, Kate spun her chair around to face away from her desk. Ryan, noticing what she was holding, held up his hands as a goalpost. She balanced the paper football on her knee and flicked it in his direction. It sailed between his upright pointer fingers and hit him squarely in the nose.

"Gooooal!" Esposito cried, imitating a soccer announcer.

"Nice one," Ryan said appreciatively, rubbing his nose.

Rick laughed. "Well, as absolutely riveting as this is," he said, standing up, "I have a date to get ready for, so I'm gonna head home."

"A date?" drawled Esposito as his eyebrows crept towards his hairline. Kate studiously avoided eye contact with everyone. Even the slightest of looks would've broken her, and she'd be giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Yep," Rick answered cheerfully, waving goodbye. "Be jealous, fellas. See ya."

"Hear that, Beckett?" Ryan asked as soon as Rick's footsteps had faded away. She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. "Castle's going on a date."

"Yep, I heard," she answered nonchalantly.

"And you're okay with it?" Esposito prodded.

She shrugged casually. "Absolutely."

"Uh huh…" Esposito said suspiciously, eyes narrowing.

"What?" she asked innocently. She enjoyed their unsure silence for a moment before she feigned an exasperated sigh and stood up. "Okay then." She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "I'm gonna take off."

"Really?" Ryan asked, checking his watch; it was rather early for a Beckett departure, even on a slow day.

"Yeah, I have a date to get ready for," she said cheerfully over her shoulder as she started towards the elevator. She waved. "'Night guys."

Ryan and Esposito gaped at her retreating back.

"Did she just…?"

"Are they…?"

They looked at each other.

"The apocalypse is coming," Ryan whispered.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Kate held her phone away from her ear, wincing in pain. Like any good friend, she'd dutifully called Lanie as soon as she got home to let her know what was happening in her personal life. The words 'he's making me dinner' had barely left her mouth before Lanie let loose a blood-curdling shriek. Kate was pretty sure she'd ruptured an eardrum.

"Are you done?" she asked, tentatively placing the phone next to her ear again.

Lanie sighed happily. "Not even close!"

"Well, can you wait until someone else is on the other end of the phone? I _really_ don't want to cancel tonight because of acute hearing loss."

"Alright, I'll hold it in."

"I appreciate it."

"But giiiiiirl!" Lanie squealed.

Kate grinned, and couldn't help but do some squealing herself. "I know!"

"I'm so happy for you!"

"Me too!"

Lanie laughed. "You nervous?"

Kate thought for a second. "No, I wouldn't call it nervous. Anxious, maybe."

"To quote the lovely Natasha Richardson, anxious-nervous, like you're totally completely dreading it, or anxious-excited?"

"To quote the less than lovely Lindsay Lohan, anxious-excited, definitely."

"Mmm, who would've thought we'd be doing lines from The Parent Trap?"

Kate chuckled. "Who would've thought I'd be going on a date with Richard Castle?"

Lanie groaned. "Honey, it's been in my prayers for a year and a half."

"No comment."

"Fine. So, Ms. Anxious-Excited, you're really not nervous?"

Kate sighed. "Maybe a little bit. But I know I shouldn't be! I mean, it's Castle."

"But at the same time, it's _Castle_," Lanie finished.

"Exactly. I definitely don't want to screw this up, and I'm scared that I might. But I know him, and I know how we are together, and I know that I have nothing to worry about."

"That's my girl! You have a plan?"

"Yes. I'm gonna say what I need to say, and then wing it."

Silence.

"Lanie? You there?"

"I'm sorry, I don't think I've _ever_ heard you say you'll wing it."

"Yeah, well, if there's anything I've learned, it's that plans and Castle don't tend to work out so well."

Lanie chuckled. "Got that right."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Alexis!"

It had been a number of months since Kate had made an appearance at the Castle household. Still, she was somewhat surprised to see a certain red-haired teenager exiting the building as she approached. She called her name before she'd even had time to process it, and wondered for a split second if she shouldn't have. Her doubts dissipated, however, when the girl's eyes lit up.

"Detective Beckett! Hi!"

She grinned. "Please, it's Kate when I'm without handcuffs."

Alexis giggled. "Right, sorry, it's been awhile."

"For which I blame you, Ms. Princeton!" Kate joked.

Alexis shrugged modestly. "When the Ivy League comes calling…"

"Oh, trust me, I know. So how was it?"

"Awesome."

Kate smiled. "As it should be! Work hard, play hard?"

"Yep. Well," she added as an afterthought, "I don't play quite as hard as most people there do, but that doesn't mean I didn't have ridiculous amounts of fun."

"If only the rest of America's youth were as wise as you."

Alexis chuckled shyly. "Thanks."

Kate glanced at her watch. "Ooh, hate to run, but—"

"No, please run!" Alexis laughed. "As much as I like seeing you, I'm fairly certain my dad likes it that much more. I'd hate to deprive him."

Kate smiled. "Please tell me he didn't kick you out tonight!"

"Don't worry, I've had these plans tonight for ages. I'm in high demand now that I've been to 'college,'" Alexis said, making air quotes around the word and rolling her eyes to show just how ridiculous she thought her friends were being. "Everyone wants to know about the boys, the parties, blah blah blah."

"Well then, go educate the masses," Kate said with a laugh, starting towards the door. "See you soon?"

"Yeah, definitely!" Alexis agreed enthusiastically. "Oh, wait a second, Kate?"

"Yeah?"

She stepped closer. "I don't know what this dinner tonight means to you, but to my dad, it's…" She paused. "He kept all your letters, if that gives you an idea."

Kate felt her face grow warm. "He did?"

Alexis nodded. "They're in a shoebox in his office, which is a big deal in itself. He spends more time there than his bedroom." She took a deep breath. "I just don't want to see him get hurt again."

The concern in the clear blue eyes looking up at her tugged at Kate's heartstrings. "Neither do I," she said quietly. "I promise."

There was palpable relief in the smile that greeted her confession. "Good. Sorry, I'm making you late, I'll leave now."

Kate chuckled. "Have fun tonight!"

Alexis grinned mischievously. "You too!"

With a final wink, Kate turned and nodded hello to the doorman as she entered the building. _So_, she thought happily, making her way through the lobby and entering a conveniently waiting elevator, _he kept my letters_. She'd hoped he would, and from the way he reacted when she told him she'd kept his, felt rather optimistic about it. But still, having it confirmed was enough to have her stomach feel like it was dissolving. It scared the crap out of her how easily he turned her to mush, how he seemed to know exactly what to do to give her those infuriatingly pleasant butterflies in her stomach. And yes, her first instinct was to back away. But she'd spent enough time away from him to realize that she'd rather be scared and with him than self-preserved and without him. Which, of course, was a scary thought in itself.

Oh boy.

"Overdramatic much?" she muttered to herself. "It's just freaking dinner."

She was a bundle of nerves, excitement, and adrenaline as she approached his door, but didn't hesitate to knock. She only had to wait a few seconds before Rick opened the door.

She couldn't help but grin. "Hey."

He grinned as well and stepped aside, beckoning her in. Once she was inside, he closed the door behind her and, before she had the chance to react, quickly kissed her.

When he pulled away, he smiled and answered the question he saw in her eyes. "It was my turn."

She chuckled. "Something tells me we'll both enjoy that more when we both know it's coming."

"Oh, I'm quite sure of that," he said, a devious twinkle in his eyes. "But first I think I should feed you, because I know for a fact that you haven't eaten since noon." He took her hand and began leading her inside, surprising her when they bypassed the kitchen and headed instead for the living room. "Now, I did something kind of off the beaten track here. If you hate it, tell me, and we can figure something else out."

Her mouth dropped open when she saw what was laid out on the coffee table. "Fondue?"

Indeed, on the table sat a silver fondue pot filled with a delicious looking cheese sauce, several forks, and a large platter covered in an assortment of breads, cold cuts, and vegetables.

He looked at her apprehensively. "Yes, no, maybe?"

She laughed. "I love it! Who could say no to a pot of melted cheese?"

He grinned, relieved, as they sat down on the couch. "Is that the secret? Cheese is the way to a woman's heart?"

"No," she chuckled, "Creativity is. And you, sir, are three for three."

She could've sworn she saw him blush a little bit as his brow furrowed. "Three?"

"How many times have I ever gotten a birthday card for an occasion other than my birthday? Number one." She reached over to the table and selected the red-tipped fork for herself. "Most other people in my life call or text instead of writing letters. Number two." She picked up the purple-tipped fork and handed it to Rick, smiling knowingly. "And fondue for dinner is number three."

He accepted the fork from her, pausing thoughtfully for a moment before he spoke. "Damn, I'm good!"

Kate laughed and poked his arm lightly with her fork. "Don't get cocky. I now have very high expectations."

He grinned. "Don't worry, I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve." He paused for a moment, and changed tracks. "Is something wrong?"

"What makes you say that?"

He gestured towards her hands, which were nervously fidgeting with her fork.

She chuckled. "Ah." Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. "Nothing's wrong, but can I ask you something?"

"Shoot. Words, not bullets."

She rolled her eyes, but continued. "You and Gina. Are you two…?"

"No!"

"And this summer…?"

"No!"

"You can tell me if you did."

"We _didn't_, I swear. She was always out with her snooty country club friends, and I was either writing or," he gestured to Kate, "writing." He smiled softly. "Trust me, there's nothing there. Hasn't been for a really long time."

She ignored the pleasant lurch of her heart and the urge to grin, determined to have the situation completely straight. "So when she said you two were on the phone for hours…?"

"I needed someone to listen, and she was the unfortunate soul on the other end of the phone." He chuckled. "You know how good I am at word-vomiting."

"You know, if you needed someone to talk to you could've come to me."

"Umm," he hedged nervously, "Not that time."

"Wha—? _Ohhh_." It suddenly dawned on her, and she felt horribly guilty. "It was about me, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," he said, looking as guilty as she felt.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

She blew out a breath. "For putting you in that situation. And for being assumptive and utterly wrong."

"Hey," he said reassuringly, "Water under the bridge. Now _eat_."

She chuckled, and turned to contemplate the selection of food before her. "Um, are those baby pickles?"

He laughed. "Yeah."

"And they're for dipping? In _cheese_?"

"Why are you looking at me like I'm crazy? Here," he said, spearing a pickle on his fork and dipping it into the fondue. "You'd never think to put the two together, but it's actually quite good." He held it out towards her. "I know it's no hand margarita, but…"

She laughed and, after only a slight hesitation, bit the pickle neatly off of the end of the fork. He watched her for a moment as she chewed thoughtfully.

"Well," she said after swallowing, "it's a little unconventional, but not entirely unpleasant."

"Are you talking about us or the food?" She laughed, and he couldn't remember enjoying someone's smile more. But there were still lingering questions that he'd let go unasked, and he knew he had to speak now or forever hold his peace. He tossed his fork back onto the table. "Can I ask you something?"

"I _do_ owe you a question, don't I?" she mused jokingly.

He took a deep breath. "How long have you and Demming been … not together?"

"Since, um," she cleared her throat awkwardly, "Since the day you left."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yep. You were driving Alexis to Princeton, I was breaking things off with Tom."

He gaped at her. "What? Why didn't you tell me?"

She smiled sadly. "I tried."

"You did?"

She chuckled softly, and looked down at her hands. "You didn't really think I pulled you out of your going away party to tell you to have a good summer, did you?"

Rick suddenly felt as if he'd been hit over the head with a frying pan. "Oh god," he said in a strangled voice. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"If I did I'd be lying."

"Nooo," he groaned miserably, putting his face in his hands. "I am _so_ sorry. I hate myself. I'm a terrible person. I deserve to be put on an island where I can't contaminate the rest of society."

She laughed, appreciating the sentiment. "No you don't."

"Wait," he said, looking at her curiously. "Why don't you hate me?"

"Oh don't worry, I did."

"What changed?"

"I thought about it," she answered honestly. "There's no way you could've known. If anything, it's my fault for taking so long." She paused, noticing he still looked rather miserable. "Seriously, please don't blame yourself. I don't."

He sighed heavily. "Alright, I'll try not to. But…" He groaned, and rubbed his hands down his face. "Three months. We could've had _three months._"

She took his hand, squeezing it gently. "We have right now."

It was as if he'd drunk a mug of hot chocolate on the coldest of days; the warmth that he felt spread through him at those words was indescribable. "Yeah," he said softly, leaning closer to her and gently brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear with his free hand. "Yeah, we do."

His world now consisted of nothing but her, her and the feel of her lips against his and the way she was kissing him, slow and sweet. His free hand found her hip and he heard her fork clatter to the floor as her hand found his shoulder, slowly tracing upwards to cup his cheek, holding him to her. He felt her lips open to him and responded in kind, deepening the kiss, trying to convey his myriad of emotions into actions, telling her silently just how glad he was to have her there with him.

They sat there for several moments, kissing, holding each other, hands entwined, until Rick summoned all of his willpower and pulled away. He rested his forehead against hers and simply looked at her for a moment, their breath intermingling between them. Feeling a dopey smile beginning to show itself on his face, he reached up and traced his thumb along her jaw line.

"You taste like a pickle."

She let out a breathy laugh. "Your fault."

He grinned and kissed her again, speaking against her mouth. "Not complaining."

::::::::::::::::::::::::

_Ring._

Rick rubbed his eyes groggily and seriously contemplated hurling his phone across the room and going back to sleep. He'd been having an all too pleasant dream, involving a hot tub, a certain homicide detective, and a distinct lack of clothing. But, considering the fact that it's always the best dreams that you can never just fall back into, and that it was probably the detective in question on the line anyway, he dismissed that thought fairly quickly. Rolling over, he took a second to scowl at the glowing display of his clock, which read 2:47, before accepting the call.

"Mmf."

Kate chuckled. "Morning, sunshine."

"I'll have you know," he said, yawning widely, "that you're the only person that isn't related to me that I answer the phone for at this hour of the night."

"Morning," she corrected.

"Shut up," he yawned.

She laughed. "Well, if you feel up to getting out of bed, we've got a body."

"Oooh," he said, perking up instantly. "Yes please!"

"You can sleep if you want to, I can fill you in later," she offered.

"No, I'll be there," he said, shaking the cobwebs of sleep from his mind and heading to his closet. "Seeing you for real is better than seeing you in a dream."

_Crap_. Though it was the truth, he hadn't meant to be _that_ honest. Not mere hours after their first date, at least. He winced, bracing for a snarky retort.

"You dream about me?"

He was surprised to hear her sound surprised, almost shy. "Well," he said suggestively, "after the evening we had, how could I not?"

She laughed. "And here I was, thinking that by calling this early I was going to catch you off your game."

"Hey, that was only half game," he said, rifling through his shirts.

"What was the other half?"

"Sincerity."

"Good." He heard her smile in her words. "'Cause I'd have to agree."

He laughed. "Does that mean I was in your dreams too?"

"Oh come on, I can't give all my secrets away this early!"

"Okay, okay, I'll pick my battles," he chuckled. "So where are we headed on this fine morning?"

"42nd and 6th."

"Alright, I'll see you there. Wait," he said suddenly, "What are we going to tell them?"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

The body of a grungy-looking man hung in Bryant Park, tangled in the chains of a swing. His eyes stared vacantly and a trail of blood dripped from his mouth, leaving a small puddle on the dirt below. Amidst the caution tape and the flashing of CSU cameras, the shadowy figures of Lanie Parish, Javier Esposito, and Kevin Ryan stood huddled together against the cool early morning breeze.

"No way," Lanie said.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed. "There's no way."

"Come on, it's a possibility!" Esposito insisted.

Ryan shook his head as Lanie spoke.

"My girl _does not_ put out on a first date, let alone sleep over."

"But this isn't just any first date! It's Castle!"

"But it's also _Beckett_," Ryan said, eyebrows raised in amusement.

"I'm just sayin', things have been building for so long, once they get started I don't think they'll be able to stop."

"Hey!" Lanie exclaimed indignantly. "Your boy may not, but Kate does have self control."

"I bet you twenty bucks that they show up together."

Lanie's eyes narrowed. "You're on. Ryan, you want in?"

Ryan grinned. "Twenty bucks that they don't even acknowledge it."

"Ha!" Lanie scoffed. "They're going to act like they've been dating forever, like them being a couple is completely normal."

As if on cue, a car pulled up. The three looked towards it, shielding their eyes against its headlights, waiting with bated breath to see who emerged. After several seconds, Kate Beckett stepped out of the drivers' side door and began making her way over to the crime scene, alone.

Lanie cackled quietly at Esposito. "Sucka."

He made a face at her, but wisely kept quiet.

"Hey," Kate said as she approached the group. They murmured their hellos. "What've we got?"

"John Doe, I estimate in his early thirties," Lanie rattled off from her notes.

"No wallet, no ID, no valuables," Ryan added.

"Not that he looks like he owns any valuables," Esposito said with a sideways look at his partner.

"Ooooh, now this is what I was talkin' about!"

The four turned to see Rick Castle jogging over to them, his eyes alight with excitement. "Let me guess … John Doe?"

"Yeah," Kate answered. "Good job getting here fast, by the way," she added sarcastically.

"Sorry, I received a very distracting phone call."

Lanie smirked. There was no way Ryan and Esposito caught the significant look those two were giving each other.

But the moment passed, and just as quickly as he'd arrived, Rick was looking eagerly at the body. "May I?" he asked.

Kate shrugged, and waved him forward. She turned to Ryan and Esposito. "Go get the uniforms to canvass the area for potential witnesses. It's early, but we might get lucky." They nodded and complied, leaving Kate alone with Lanie.

"So," Lanie said in a low voice.

"Hmm?" Kate hummed innocently.

"Oh, don't give me that!" Lanie said exasperatedly. "How'd it go last night? Not well enough to spend the night, I see."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Geez, can I get to the second date before I'm expected to sleep over?"

Lanie chuckled. "Trust me, I'm not the one that needs to be convinced of that. But seriously, how'd it go?"

Kate smiled. "You really want to know?"

"Is the sky blue?"

Chuckling, Kate turned to the swing set. "Castle!" she called. "Can you come here for a second?"

A ways away, Ryan and Esposito looked up from their notepads at the sound of Kate's voice. Lanie looked at her dubiously as Rick jogged over.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Kate grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him soundly.

Lanie couldn't help it; her mouth fell open. In stunned silence, she glanced over at the boys, whose eyes were as wide as saucers. She could see the beginnings of a grin on Ryan's face, and Esposito quickly gathered himself and catcalled.

Kate pulled away and, wiping her bottom lip, turned to Lanie. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah," Lanie said, mock thoughtfully. "That about does it."

"Mmm, good," Kate said, nodding seriously. "And did that prevent everyone from winning any money?" she asked, shooting a pointed look towards her team. "Because, judging by the looks on your faces, nobody expected that."

"Uh, yeah," Ryan answered hesitantly.

"She was in on it too," Esposito said, pointing at Lanie.

"I know," Kate said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Do you think I'd make out with Castle in front of a dead body if I thought that less than everyone would be betting against it?" She held in a grin at the looks on their faces. "Now, can we get back to work please?" She watched them as they turned grudgingly back to their notepads and the two uniforms standing awkwardly behind them.

"That," Rick said, "was the most kick-ass thing we've ever done."

Kate rolled her eyes in amusement. "Lanie, what else do we have?" she asked, nodding in the direction of the victim.

Somewhat taken aback by the quick changed in subject, Lanie raised her eyebrows. "Right. Come with me."

She headed towards the swing set, and Rick made to follow. Kate grabbed his arm and, when he turned to face her, kissed him, lingering a moment longer than she'd planned.

"That _was_ pretty fun," she murmured in his ear.

Stepping away, she briskly followed Lanie. "Time of death?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Kate tapped her pointer finger against her lips as she surveyed the sparsely covered murder board from her perch on her desk. She narrowed her eyes and attempted to tear her thoughts away from the night before and focus on the case at hand. Hugh Brigman, 35 years old, killed between 12 and 2 this morning, fingerprints in the system for possession with intent to distribute. Ryan and Esposito were out (thankfully) tracking down his next of kin, but other than that, that's all there was.

She sighed, and swallowed hard as Rick sat down beside her. His thigh rubbing against hers would _not_ be helping things.

"Got anything?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nope. Until we can get a witness or his next of kin, there's nothing to go on."

He sighed. "Well, that's unfortunate."

"I know. I was looking forward to spinning theories with you again."

"You were?"

"Yeah." Smiling, she met his eyes. "I missed you this summer," she said softly.

Rick was surprised he was still solid, and not a melted puddle of mush on the floor. He smiled. "I missed you too." He leaned in, and—

"Hey now," interrupted Ryan's voice, "Let's keep things PG, shall we?"

"Castle and Beckett, sitting in a tree," Esposito sang, smirking so hard that Kate thought his face was going to fall off, "K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

"Wow!" Kate exclaimed sarcastically. "Esposito, I didn't know you could spell words that long!"

"Yeah, you miss a lot when you're sucking face," he joked.

Her eyes narrowed. "Not that you would know from personal experience."

"Uhh," Ryan interjected before any blood could be shed, "the vic's sister is in the interview room."

Rick hopped off the desk and offered Kate his arm. "Shall we?"

Smiling indulgently, she touched his shoulder instead. "Save the chivalry for when we don't have a grieving relative to talk to."

At his smile, she made herself turn away and headed to do her job. Despite herself, she grinned. It was all so wonderfully, frightfully new, but at the same time, so deliciously familiar. For the first time in a long time, even though there was death around every corner, even though grief was thick in the air, Kate Beckett was happy.

FIN.  
(for real.)

* * *

A/N: penny for your thoughts? :]


End file.
